


Space Song

by Diz_Insomnia



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diz_Insomnia/pseuds/Diz_Insomnia
Summary: She drifts through starlit dreams as easily as his waking thoughts. It's becoming a problem.





	Space Song

It's not a normal dream. He thinks of the chalk-white tube, an upright cigarette sans filter. A rocket, though quieter than he expected. And it ascends, crawling through the night, bruising its nose on the line separating cloying atmo and endless space. He's floating, feeling nothing, feeling right, as he watches light shining through the narrow windows. Somehow there's enough, maybe reflected off the scarred mirror that is the distant moon, or sun fire skimming over the earth’s seas. He doesn't know and, truthfully, he doesn't care. It's just enough light to spot stardust in her hair.

Her eyes are closed but she's breathing, lungs expanding and crinkling tight to a rhythm he can't hear. But she's drifting, down in the dark, towards the planet teeming with life he cannot reach.

Away from him.

It being space forcibly divorced from reality, pun unintended but she’d appreciate it, he can do something. Here, he can reach out, surrender himself to the physics that carry him to her. It's not long now, Newton can eat his heart out; lacking motion and force, he falls far faster than her. He catches her left hand, threading his fingers in the gaps between hers. Little wonder as to how she types half as quick as she does; her hands are smaller than they look through the pixelated feed. He wraps his arm around her waist, hand finding its spot against her hip like it was made to fit. And maybe God made them like legos, snapping together because they're meant to, manufactured constructs waiting someone to follow the design and bring them together. It hurts more than the insistence that they are bisecting lines, crossing once and hurtling away, never to meet again. He doesn’t have to tell her that here.

Her head rests on his shoulder. He feels on his neck her warm breath, hitching, before feeling her arm curl around him. There's a soft but insistent pressure, her hold the gentlest vice but a trap all the same. She tucks herself against him. While her lips leave lingering molten warmth on his pulse point, their hearts harmonize between them, echoing in his ears.

Her mouth closes around two syllables.

A name she can’t know. Can’t ever know.

The dream rips away with a painful jolt under his sternum. Preemptive mourning for when he inevitably ghosts the RFA. He shakes away the melodrama; too much work to not do. Maybe the jolt’s a retaliatory shot from the heart for all the Dr. Pepper.

Even so, lol, it’s not the worst way to go.


End file.
